Lunch Break
by AndThenIDied
Summary: Craig works for his dad's construction company. He's content with his stable job and lifestyle, but is he happy? Fluffy oneshot. Creek.


***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

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**Lunch Break **

There are a lot of things I hate about South Park. Like, the fact that it's cold 90% of the year, that it's in the middle of nowhere, or that we're all probably just a bunch of inbred hicks. I could probably go on for hours on why this small town is just a shithole in the middle of the mountains…but, I admit, there are some things I actually do like about it. It's quiet and peaceful (most of the time), it's nostalgic, and—I guess—it's pretty (when there isn't brown snow covering everything). So, the fact that I never left after graduating high school isn't that unbearable.

Most people don't actually leave South Park. In fact, it's more common for kids to just stay and take over whatever shitty business their parents own than go off to college. There's, like, just a handful of kids that actually leave.

I stayed. My dad's in charge of a local construction company in town that goes around and remodels houses or shops on Main Street. I've been working for him since junior year of high school. We're the guys sitting in the shitty pickup trucks on the side of the road with a faded "Tucker" logo painted sloppily on the side.

You need help with a structure? Just call a Tucker.

We're marketing geniuses.

Anyway, I don't mind where I am right now in my life. Taking over the business? I'm fine with that. Staying in South Park? Not ideal, but that's okay too. Sure I still hang out with Clyde when he's off from working at the shoe shop, and I still live at home and nothing feels like it's changed from high school. But I'm okay with that. I practically live for the monotonous routine of waking up, going to work, and then coming home to sleep until tomorrow.

I guess I don't know if you could call me _happy, _but you can definitely call me content.

Again, I'm okay with that.

I was sent off with a bunch of guys to fix up the second story of a photography shop down on Main Street. A storm had recently whipped through South Park and fucked up a lot of the older buildings. But, hey, that's business for us. So, throwing on my ripped denims and dirty boots I was out the door.

It was summer, and we usually got to work early in the morning so that we could take a break when the afternoon was at its hottest.

I rolled up in my old truck after a few minutes (it only really takes a few minutes to get anywhere in South Park), and got out to begin unloading my equipment.

The entire right corner of the place was missing, leaving a giant gaping hole. There were already a few people on ladders getting a tarp over the thing until we could patch it back up.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw some movement from the store across the street. Looking up with little interest, I noticed that the place across the street was Tweak's Bros. Tweek Tweak was currently propping the door open to indicate the café was open. He glanced up from his task and spotted me. I offered him a tiny wave and he nodded back in response before scurrying back into the shop.

Let me tell you about Tweek Tweak. He's this short little blond thing that is attractive in the strangest ways. He's got this wild blond hair that would look ridiculous on anyone else…but because he's Tweek, it somehow works. Not only that, but he has these massive brown eyes that look Photoshopped rather than something real. Actually, his entire face just seems like it shouldn't be possible. His eyes are huge, but his nose is thin and long, swooping down and then up like a tiny little fish hook. Underneath his nose is a thin mouth that forms into the tiniest of smiles when he laughs. He's ditched the awkward button up shirts for large sweaters, even on a hot day like this.

In eighth grade I had the most awkward crush on the kid for, like, a week. That's when I found out I wasn't straight and, Jesus Christ, was that a year to remember. Anyway, Tweek and I were kind of like acquaintances for most of our high school career. We'd talk every now and then in the halls, or work together on group projects. Our last names were close together, so we were shoved into the same homeroom all the time. We don't talk much anymore, but he still has that "Tweek-only" attractive quality to him.

I began setting up and getting to work, occasionally climbing up ladders to remove the tarp and get measurements. The cicadas were buzzing and the sun was blazing by the time afternoon rolled around. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, squinting up at the sky.

"I'm taking lunch." I told the man next to me, sliding down the ladder. I opened the car door, grabbing at the rusted metal box that I kept my lunch in. The inside of my truck felt like it was a thousand degrees, and when I opened the box to check on the sandwich I made the previous night, the bread nearly melted in my hands. Frowning, I put the thing back and slammed my truck's door.

I found myself staring at Tweak's Bros.

Shrugging to myself, I walked across the street and into the cool air of the café. There were a few teenagers sitting at some of the tables, loitering as they usually did. It's not like there's anything else to do here. I walked up to the counter, realizing I probably looked a lot sweatier and disheveled than the usual customers when I saw Tweek's horrified expression.

"Hey Tweek." I greeted casually, taking a glance at the menu.

"Hello! Uh, welcome to Tweak's Bros! What can I get you?" His skinny hands were posed over the register, just itching to punch in my order.

"Umm…" I couldn't pronounce half of that stuff on the menu. Skipping the over-priced drinks, I searched for anything to eat that wasn't a scone or muffin. "Do you have, like, sandwiches or something?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We have pretzel dogs." Tweek offered. When I didn't respond, he cleared his throat. "A-A hotdog wrapped in a pretzel…"

"Oh." I began digging into my pocket. "Sure, I'll take that." I pulled out a moist five-dollar bill, frowning at it before sliding it across the smooth counter top. Tweek stared at it like it suddenly grew eight legs before squeaking,

"That will be five seventy five…" When I didn't pull any more money out of my pockets the blond simply grabbed at the bill anyway, "But this will be fine. Do you want anything else?"

"Can I just get water?"

"Sure." Tweek grabbed a tall clear cup and filled it with some filtered water before sliding it my way. "Um, your order will be done soon, you can go ahead and take a seat." And then he disappeared behind two double doors on the other side of the counter.

I took it gratefully before finding myself a nice table and plopping down. Tweak's Bros looked like any other standard coffee shop. It had some soft indie shit playing through the speakers and Earth toned furniture. It was nice. I remembered coming here with Clyde and Token back in high school, except Mr. Tweak was usually behind the counter…and he was kind of creepy so we didn't come here often.

"So you're working on the picture place across the street?" I glanced up to see Tweek setting a paper wrapped cylinder down in front of me.

"Yeah." I replied, distracted by unwrapping my food and taking a generous bite. "Storm fucked it up." I mumbled between mouthfuls. Tweek nodded mutely before taking a seat. I looked up at him in surprise. "So, how've you been doing?" I managed awkwardly.

"Good." He replied quietly. "I manage the shop now, which is pretty cool."

"Really?" I said in surprise. "Your parents are done with the place?"

"Pretty much. They just—just handle the financial stuff because it's still kind of confusing."

I nodded in understanding, finishing off the rest of my pretzel dog.

Tweek and I spoke for a few more minutes before I went back to work. The next day, I found myself crawling back to the shop on lunch break, actually bringing enough money to pay for a meal this time. Soon it became a sort of habit, and I found myself at the blonde's shop everyday.

It turned out that Tweek lived on his own on the second story of Tweak Bros. There was an attic up there used for storage so he cleared it out to make a place for himself. Apparently the stairs were located in a backroom beside the kitchen. I was kind of embarrassed to find out that _Tweek Tweak _of all people moved out of his parents' house before I did. I may have lied and told him I was currently looking for a place.

Tweek had actually grown up to be a mellow and quiet guy. He was still the Tweek I knew, though, with the occasional twitch and worried rant.

I'd actually wake up earlier than necessary to go to work, and then work extra slow just so I could spy on the guy through coffee shop's clear windows. Sometimes I'd catch Tweek peeking at me and would give him a little flex of the arms as a joke, and then laugh as he'd scurry away back into the shop.

God, it was like eighth grade all over again. I'd get excited to see him, my stomach would do fucking flips, and I'd just stare at him for no reason. Only this time my feelings lasted more than a five-day school week. I'd go to sleep and think about him. I'd wake up and try to wear a pair of jeans that weren't ripped.

Yeah I had it bad.

On the last day, I stopped by Tweak's Bros one more time. But this time, I intended to ask him out…on, like, a date. So I tried to wear my nicest clothes for the occasion: a pair of jeans with only two holes in the knees, and a gray t-shirt with only _one _primer paint stain on it. I guess I still looked pretty shitty since it was hot as fuck outside and I was sweating like crazy, but it's the thought that counts.

I sat down at my usual table, and after a few minutes Tweek brought me my usual pretzel dog and water. He didn't charge me anymore, which was nice, since I wasn't the type of guy to continually spend six dollars everyday on lunch.

"Hi Craig." Tweek greeted in that quiet raspy tone of his. "The store looks really nice." He said, motioning out the window to where the photography shop was nearly done. It just needed to be painted over.

"Yeah." I took a large bite of my lunch. "This'll probably be the last day we work on it."

"Oh." I smirked at Tweek's crushed expression. "Well, it's nice you finally got-got it done." He mumbled.

"Man, don't worry I'll still show up here. Where else can I get a free lunch?"

"It's only free because you come here so much!"

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes, taking a gulp of water. There was a lull in the conversation, and my heart began pumping harshly at what I was about to ask.

"So, uh," I began awkwardly, "speaking of how I come here so much, would you ever want to go somewhere else?" I looked up from my finished food only to see a blank expression on the blonde's face.

"What?" He squeaked.

"Like, on a date." I clarified, leaning back in my chair to feign some kind of aloofness. Tweek's cheeks suddenly flushed a light shade of pink. I stared at him hungrily until he awkwardly responded.

"Sure." Tweek finally said, smiling shyly. "Um, when?"

I was so elated by the fact that Tweek said yes that I didn't even hesitate to answer. "Tonight. At seven."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, does that work?"

Tweek hummed for a moment before nodding. "That works."

"Alright, cool." I stood up, pushing my chair in. "I'll pick you up here at seven."

"Okay."

As I left the shop I couldn't control the large grin that practically split my face in half. Jesus Christ, I was going on a date with Tweek Tweak. I couldn't focus on anything else for the rest of the day. Instead I thought of dumb shit like where I'd take him, what I'd wear, what _he'd _wear, what we'd do after. I kept thinking about it even as I pulled up to Tweak's Bros in my dumpy pickup truck wearing the same clothes I had been all day.

So, our date wasn't exactly fancy. We actually just ended up going to Apple Bee's, and Tweek wore the same thing he'd been wearing all day too. It was nice and laid back, though. After about a ten-minute argument I finally paid the bill and began driving him back.

"Thanks for the dinner, Craig." Tweek uttered, a small smile adorning his bizarrely captivating face. "What are you doing?" He wrinkled his nose as I began getting out of the car with him.

"I'm walking you to the door." I replied obviously. "Jesus, does no one have class anymore?"

Tweek rolled his eyes. "Says the guy who drives a car with one 120 thousand miles on it."

"Hey," I caught up to the blond, boldly reaching out and grabbing his hand, "insulting a man's car is like insulting his mother." Tweek stared down at our tangled hands. I hoped my palms weren't too sweaty, but I mean, I guess they're always sweaty. He squeezed my hand and before I knew it we were standing in front of the glass doors of Tweak's Bros.

"Are we going to do this again?" Tweek asked, staring up at me with those big ass eyes of his.

"If you want to." I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek.

Tweek stretched up on his tiptoes, and suddenly his lips were against mine—like soft warm pillows. My eyes widened in shock before I leaned into the gentle kiss. It wasn't anything fancy, just a prolonged peck really.

"I'd like that." Tweek eventually said, pulling away and reaching into his pocket for his keys.

"I would too." I mumbled, in somewhat of a daze. He waved goodbye, and disappeared into the darkness of his coffee shop.

So, I guess you couldn't really call me content anymore. No. But you can definitely call me happy.


End file.
